Sparrow
by MoonWallker
Summary: What does a three ton mech see in a newly hatched sparrow?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Sparrow  
**Prompt:** Family  
**Universe: **G1  
**Rating:** PG13  
**Characters:** Prowl/Jazz, Bluestreak, Ratchet, Sideswipe, Wheeljack, Perceptor and mentions of others.  
**Summary:** What does a 3 ton mech see in a newly hatched sparrow?  
**Notes:** Made it! (sorta)  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Transformers.

* * *

_Faith is the bird that the feels the light when the dawn is still dark._

* * *

Prowl knew the next few Earth days would be hard. He was prepared for it and sincerely hoped Jazz was as well.

They we returning from the city one evening, the sky dark grey, as rain threatened to fall on them any moment now. They were driving in peaceful silence, if not slightly melancholic due to the weather, but Prowl didn't have time to muse on that as Jazz suddenly hit his brakes and transformed.

"Jazz?"

Prowl did the same and went to see what his mate was doing. His scans showed no threats, seekers or any other Cybertronians approaching.

Jazz didn't answer and simply went off road, near some bushes. He crouched and pushed them aside. Prowl heard him ex vent hard and peered over his shoulder to look down at a fallen sparrow chick.

It was a gray little critter. Compared to them, the chick seemed minuscule. Its little eyes were half closed, the small beak was partly open and the wings weren't folded properly. It was probably only a couple of days old as it was mostly covered in fluff.

What a sad, pathetic little creature, mused Prowl.

He observed how Jazz, with the utmost care that a Cybertronian should not even be able to perform, picked the small creature up and cradled it near his chest.

"It's getting late." The police car stated after a stretching silence, the sky graying up even more, as rain was ready to fall on them any moment now. The wind was slowly picking up, caressing their rough plating and making the small thing curl around itself, reminding everyone that autumn was approaching.

"We can't leave it here, that's certain death." The saboteur look sadly at the poor thing, so small and fragile in his huge hands. Jazz's spark ached for it.

"We can't take it, it's too small to fix, even for Ratchet." Prowl sated softly and placed a servo on Jazz's shoulder, trying to give comfort.

Jazz carefully stood up, shielding the chick from the wind, "This place is filled with cats and Primus knows what else. We can't leave the sparklin' here to die."

Prowl shuttered his optics as his own spark clenched with sorrow. Of course it'll come down to this. "That's not a sparkling, Jazz."

"I know," Jazz gently used one of his fingers to pet the small thing's head, the chick being even smaller than his finger. "But it's a new life and we should try savin' it anyway."

Prowl didn't have the spark to deny his mate. Not now of all times. The two mechs felt the first few drops of rain fall and the chick emitted for the first time a quiet, timid chirp.

"Alrighty, Sparrow, let's get ya out of here." Jazz used his hands to cup the bird, shielding it from the rain and slowly stood up. The two black and white mechs started to walk back to their base with an even pace.

"You're naming the sparrow, Sparrow?" Prowl asked, little amusement coloring his words, trying to lift Jazz's mood as well.

Jazz smiled for the first time today, "Hah, yup. It's the first thing that came to my mind." He slightly opened his palm revealing the chick gently pecking his palm, "I think it suits her."

"Her?" Prowl peeked in Jazz's hands. "How do you know it's a female?"

"Uh huh, it's totally a little femme." Jazz wanted to pet the sparrow again but decided against it since it meant revealing her to the cold.

Prowl's improved mood evaporated again. He didn't correct Jazz this time calling the chick that.

They continued to walk out in the rain, the _Arc_ being close. Luckily, it wasn't raining hard and the wind wasn't that strong either. Jazz was more then capable of shielding the creature with his hands. Even so, the two mechs had an uneasy feeling in their sparks.

The two continued to cast discreet glances at each other, hoping the other wouldn't see, but their gazes always locked from time to time. That didn't last long, as the two tore their glances away. A sudden chirp from the sparrow made them look down and another smile formed on their faces, slightly warming their sparks and briefly casting the pain aside.

The rest of the walk home was silent.

Luckily, it was when they reached the entrance of the _Arc_ that it truly started pouring. However, they didn't expect a welcoming comity.

"Oh, you're back!" Bluestreak's cheerful face greeted them, a complete contrary to the weather and mood surrounding them, "I was starting to wonder should I call you over the comm lines, but decided to wait for you instead. The weather is awful, isn't it? I miss the sunny afternoons where I could just drive and drive and warmth hitting my frame. Oh! What have you got there, Jazz?"

The bonded pair smiled fondly at the talkative gunner, as their sparks eased even more just by the sound of his voice.

"Here, check it out," Jazz opened his hands now that they were under shelter, "I found this cutie in some bushes."

"Aww, it's so adorable!"

"I apologize that we worried you Bluestreak, we got carried away." Prowl explained as he watched the young gunner coo at the chick.

"Can I pet it?" The gray Praxian asked and receiving a nod, gently touched the sparrow's back, "It's nothing, Prowl. I was just concerned, you know? Last time Sideswipe got late from the city and the sky was gray, it was because he got hit by a lighting!"

Prowl raised his optic ridges, "There are hardly any similarities between Sideswipe and me, Bluestreak."

"Blue," Jazz chuckled, "The only reason he got hit was due to him usin' an electric pillar as a bat to fend off Lazerbeak."

"Come on, let's head inside." Prowl herded the two mechs, "The storm is getting stronger." His words got empathized when a lightning pierced the sky.

"What are you going to do with it anyway?" Bluestreak couldn't take his optics away from the chick, looking so tiny in Jazz's hands, as they headed towards the med bay. The birdie was very small compared to humans, let alone mechs! It truly was minuscule.

"Well, we'll try to nurse it back to health and then set it free. And it's not an _it_ anymore, we call it Sparrow." Jazz answered before Prowl could respond. The tactician felt his wings droop as the pain in his spark started to return.

When they entered the med bay, they were surprised to see that it was crowded with life. Wheeljack was laying on one of the berths, his right hand and parts of his right foot missing, but a smile was visible in his optics. Perceptor on the other hand was glaring daggers at the inventor, and if glares could kill, Wheeljack would be one dead mech. As for Ratchet, it looked like the poor CMO was seriously contemplating on hitting his head against something hard, repeatedly.

"I don't get paid enough for this." Ratchet muttered.

"You don't get paid, at all." Sideswipe piped up from a berth on the side.

"Remind me again, why are you here?" Ratchet turned to glare at the red frontliner, his arms twitching and restraining himself from strangling the young mech.

"My knee got busted again."

Ratchet's optics brightened with fury, "I told you to take it easy you ungrateful little scraplet! Is that so hard to comprehend?!"

"Well, it's not my fault Prowl assigned me inventory duty. I was helping Wheeljack and Perceptor, when, like always, things in that lab started going BOOM!"

Ratchet face palmed. They'll be the death of him, he was sure. And then, they'll also die because he won't be around to fix them.

"If Wheeljack had simply listened to me and used the potassium permanganate instead of the concentrated sulfuric acid this wouldn't have happened!"

"Percy, the sulfuric acid is much more acidifying! It would have worked!"

The microscope bristled, "No, it wouldn't! The-"

"Oh, for the love of Primus, make them stop!" Sideswipe covered his audios as Bluestreak giggled at their antics.

Ratchet, for the first time noticing they had an audience, looked them over.

"I don't see any of you three sporting any wounds. What do you want?"

"Aww, c'mon Ratch'." Jazz smiled, his spark lifting, being surrounded like this with so many friends, "We just want ya to take a look at something."

It was then that Ratchet noticed Jazz's cupped hands. The saboteur opened them and the chick inside it gave a quiet chirp, as if asking _Who are you?_

"What the frick is that?" Ratchet looked perplexed at the saboteur. Why was he holding a newly hatched sparrow?

"What a fine specimen you have there." Perceptor walked over to the trio. Bluestreak had walked off to Sideswipe, leaning on his berth watching the scene. "A common sparrow it would appear. Unfortunately, it looks like its left wing if broken."

"Yeah, we figured as much."Jazz brought the birdie closer to his chassis, "Ratch', you are able to fix 'er, right?"

There was something in the way Jazz asked that question, that Ratchet knew a negative answer wasn't welcomed.

"Jazz… you know we can't threat it?" The medic meant it as a question but it came out more as a statement. The visored mech frowned as Prowl shifted uncomfortably next to him.

"Why?" Came the one worded, cold question from Jazz. How uncharacteristic for the mech, mused Ratchet.

It would appear that he wasn't the only one to notice this, as Bluestreak left his place next to Sideswipe, to come and stand beside Jazz, looking concerned. Prowl's wings witched, obviously wanting to say something but he was being more subtle then usual.

"Jazz," Ratchet started calmly and in an even voice continued, "I can't even treat humans or any organic wild life for that matter. I'm familiar with their anatomy but I'm simply not equipped nor trained to fix them. What you've brought me is a newly hatched sparrow. It's barely 5 centimeters in diameter. It will be difficult even for a human to threat that."

Jazz stared hard at the medic for at least 10 seconds before resuming, forcing a smile, "But you can try, right? I mean, you perform micro surgery on Siders there almost every two weeks."

"That's not true!" Sideswipe protested. He wanted to continue but something told him that it was more serious. Jazz's smile fooled no one. Even Wheeljack, one of the most cheerful of mechs on board, was studying the scene carefully.

Ratchet wasn't throwing insults or threatening. Again, in that same calm demeanor, that seemed so wrong on him, resumed, "Look, the sparrow appears around 4 days of age. That's very young, _too_ young to survive even in the care of a professionalist, let alone a 3 ton transformer. Its wing is broken, we can't realign it. It doesn't even have bone tissue but mere cartilage, which is again an indicator at how young it truly is. You know this, Jazz. You know the outcome but you still drag this on. A week ago, you would have never done it."

There was an awkward silence after the long speech. Sideswipe frowned. The med bay was usually a place for treating injuries but it possessed this….jolly feeling, accompanied by curses that made everyone smile and at ease when here. This time however, as if someone had sucked all of that, replacing it with tension.

"Prowl," Without looking away from Jazz's glare, the medic addressed the tactician in the room, who still hasn't said anything since his arrival, "What vorn are we?"

The question slightly took Bluestreak and Sideswipe off guard. Perceptor and Wheeljack were looking just as perplexed. Ever sine their arrival on Earth, they stopped referring to Cybertronian time, yet here Ratchet was asking just that.

Prowl stared at the medic for a long time, either pondering what vorn exactly today was or if he knew, should he even tell.

"If my math is right, and it always is – 629,890,098 vorn, currently under the rule of Optimus Prime." The reply was crisp and sounded clinical, as Prowl's wings stood frozen on his back.

Ratchet's glare, matching Jazz's completely, unwavered as he did the count in his mind. His lips tinned as the result displayed.

"Prowl," The medic broke optic contact with Jazz and addressed the elder Praxian in the room, "I suggest you take Jazz to your quarters to cool down." Jazz's engine gave a rev but otherwise said nothing and Ratchet continued, "I'm putting you both on medical leave for the rest of the day and tomorrow as well." There was no room for argument.

"What about…" Bluestreak started, barely above a whisper.

"Leave the sparrow here. I'll do what I can for it." But it didn't seem that Jazz had plans of letting the little chick go anytime soon.

"Percy, there is a human blanket it that drawer. Could you please hand it to me?" Not one to deny Ratchet, Perceptor was quick to hand the demanded object.

Ratchet made a nest like pile with it on his left palm at looked up at Jazz, expecting. Prowl had to place his hand on the saboteurs shoulder to prompt him to place the chick in it and with great reluctance, Jazz did.

"You can come to get her after a couple of hours. For Primus' sake you two, refuel and get some rest." Only when Ratchet turned did his optics soften. Jazz on the other hand, simply turned and fled the med bay, leaving dust in his trail.

"Ratchet, I apologize. He's been very stressed the last couple of days." And so have I, Prowl didn't voice out, as he responded, civil as ever.

"I figured as much." Ratchet muttered, "The same goes for you. Go, rest." Prowl nodded and hurried after Jazz.

"What the frag was _that _?" Sideswipe looked at the CMO, "That's the first time I see them act this way. For a moment there I thought Jazz was going to attack you!"

"They're having a bad day." Ratchet grumbled as he used his free hand to pet the chick.

"A day? More like a week. Twice did Prowl thrown Sunny and me in the brig for something minor. And if I remember correctly, Jazz had snapped at Blaster. _Blaster_!"

Bluestreak looked utterly confused between the medic and Sideswipe. He knew they were acting odd and that worried him. That was the reason he waited for them in front of the Arc.

Ratchet went to one of the counters, searching for his smallest of tools that can help him feed the sparrow. Even as he worked, his mind couldn't help but wonder, has it truly been that long? Figures, for being practically immortal, time often stopped mattering for them. Yet, this week was different.

"Ratch'?" Wheeljack inquired, concerned. Perceptor was helping him start the repairs as the scientist was also looking away awkwardly.

Ratchet forced his vocalizer to work, "Don't worry. The week is extremely stressing for them both. In a couple of days they'll be good as new."

"If you say so." Came the quiet reply.

Bluestreak shifted uncomfortably next to Sideswipe, "Should I go after them? To make sure they're okay?"

The twin looked thoughtful for a moment, "No. I don't think that would be wise. Right now they need space." He gave a smile for the young gunners sake, "C'mon Blue, after Ratch' is done with me, lets go to the shooting range. You haven't humiliated Sunny and me in a long time."

And all the while Ratchet couldn't stop pondering over this, spark clenching - has it truly been ten millennia since the death of their creation, their family?

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers_  
_

* * *

_Faith is the bird that the feels the light when the dawn is still dark._

_Part 2  
_

* * *

When Prowl entered his quarters, he found a pacing Jazz.

"Was that truly necessary?" The Praxian couldn't help but ask. He was feeling just as bad as Jazz, but he wasn't running around throwing a tantrum.

"What was?" Jazz asked, completely oblivious. Prowl was not fooled. In three fast steps he was right next to Jazz and grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop pacing. Deciding to take a slightly more different approach, he ignored his temper and gently stated, as if speaking to a spooked turbo-cat,

"Calm. Down."

"Stop it." Jazz pulled his hand away, "Stop treatin' me like I'm a fucking fledglin', made from glass."

"Then stop acting like it." Prowl's wings rouse high on his back.

Jazz bristled, "Me? I at least _try_ to speak to ya about it, but ya don't listen. You never listen!" He started pacing again, circling the Praxian. "You never even bring up the subject! I try, truly _try_, to connect with ya other then sharing sparks, but ya never hear me."

Prowl crossed his arms, "What higher form of sharing is there?"

"It's not 'bout sharing emotions 'nd pain, Prowl. Trust me, I know exactly how you feel, I do." He stopped right in front of Prowl, "But sayin' it out loud is entirely different."

Prowl felt his fists clench, "There is no point to it. It proves nothing, changes nothing. Why poke the wound?"

"Because I want, when we bring this subject back in the future… I don't want it to cripple us. You, _we_, still haven't come to terms with it." Jazz growled.

"Oh?" Prowl narrowed his optics, "I'm not the one bringing dying wildlife into the Arc and growling at CMO's."

"That's completely beside the point."

"That is the point!" Prowl advanced on Jazz, "Why did you do it?! You know the bird will die, and soon. And that will make you feel even more horrible then you already do. You should have just left it there." Hasn't Prowl seen enough? He'd witnessed so much pain behind that visor, pain he had felt in their sparks. Was it too much that he didn't wish Jazz so suffer anymore?

"To die alone?" Jazz hissed, voice cold. Prowl was taken by surprise at the statement. "Like ours did?"

Prowl's stupor was short lived as Jazz felt the bond shut tight. In his most neutral voice, once reserved for the politicians back on Cybertron, he answered.

"We are not having this fight." Prowl walked passed Jazz, towards the door, "Not again."

"Yeah," Jazz glared at his back, "Because it's so much easier to run away from it."

The only answer the saboteur got was the door closing.

He stared at it for a couple of more minutes before he sat on the berth, rubbing his temples. Primus, his head, his spark – _everything_ hurt.

He loved Prowl more then anything, more then the world itself. If he asked him to rip his spark out, Jazz would do it with no second thoughts. The Praxian was brilliant, in more ways then one.

But when it came down to this, logic was not the answer. Not for Jazz. He needed Prowl, he needed to know he is there for him and most of all, he needed to know that Jazz is there for him as well.

The bond was currently closed on Prowl's side, so the visored mech had no way of tracking him without the use of Telatraan, not that he needed to. Jazz knew Prowl like no other mech ever did. The tactician was probably blowing off his steam the only way he knew how – working.

Jazz didn't blame him, he never wanted nor held any grudge against him. Things like this always happened during war and they've come to terms with it. Mostly. In a cruel way, this tragedy seemed to have brought them even closer, not to mention stronger. But sometimes, especially now, the scar was just too deep, too big for them to ignore.

Jazz tiredly stood up from the berth and went to the storage compartment on the opposite wall, where he pulled out a couple of concentrated energon cubes. He would need them. Both of them would.

The soft whine his engine gave got swallowed by the silence in the room.

* * *

It was a lot later when Prowl returned. His posture was slumped, with wings drooping low when the door closed completely. His dimply lit optics searched the room, finding its one occupant sitting on the ground, leaning on their berth.

Jazz was just starting his third cube of high grade as Prowl approached. Without exchanging words or glances, Prowl sat next to him, his plating lightly brushing Jazz's.

The saboteur gave back a brush of his own, the fight between them long forgiven and forgotten. This was a fight they've had too many times to count.

During their time here on Earth, they've seen their fair share of couples who've lost an offspring. Most of them didn't last long. But for them, separation was not an option, nor was it desired. It's true that sometimes it hurt, but the love they shared, the mutual understanding of the others pain was more than enough to keep them together. The undying flame of love between them, still shone brightly with no signs of ever extinguishing.

The rain from outside was showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, and the water drops hitting the metal of the Arc was the only sound in the quiet room. And it was deafening.

As Jazz sipped his energon, Prowl's hand was idly drawing lazy circles on Jazz's knee joint. Not a word was said between them, both lost in their own little world.

"How…"Jazz swallowed the burning fuel, "How many times are we going to have this fight?"

Prowl made no indication that he even heard him, tough, Jazz felt the block on Prowl's side of the bond starting to waver.

"It's," Prowl paused, searching for the right words, "It's hard to love you, you know?"

"Ain't that the truth." Jazz chuckled bitterly, "Still," He looked directly at Prowl, "Do ya ever regret…us?" The lazy circles haltered for a moment.

"Never." And even thought the word was whispered, barely heard above the falling raindrops, it held the conviction Jazz needed. "You know I love you more then life itself."

Jazz gave a wavering smile. Prowl always did know what to say to sooth his wounds. "I love you even more."

Still, they were dancing around the subject, Jazz thought as he took another sip of high grade, enjoying the feather-like ministrations. He knew how much Prowl was hurting. He even knew that the Praxian blamed himself for this. And nothing ever Jazz said changed Prowl's mind on that matter. And Pit, did Jazz try.

It was so much easier to ignore this. But the saboteur knew that if someday in the future they were to have another creation, they had to acknowledge the one they lost. No matter how much it hurt.

Jazz lightly hummed when Prowl's fingers brushed exposed circuitry in the relaxed joint. The tactician's wandering mind slowly started to focus more on what his hand was doing, finding more wires to tweak at.

Jazz's vents slightly hitched, and he gave a soft gasp, systems already running slightly hot from the high grade. He gently intertwined his fingers with Prowl's, promptly stopping his pleasant ministrations, and brought it to his lips, lightly kissing it.

Prowl slightly turned to face Jazz, his other hand going to gently caress a cheek. The Praxian could see the optics behind the visor looking down, a sadness that could never stay hidden from Prowl surrounding them. He tilted Jazz face up and slowly kissed him.

Both lingered like that for a while, as hands slowly started to explore the others body, seeping in between seems, teasing the wires there. The kiss broke when Prowl gasped as Jazz brushed a sensor panel. They shifted so that a dazed Jazz was lying on the ground, with Prowl over him.

It was only when Jazz felt the weigh on top of him that his slightly sluggish mind started to work again.

"Prowl." He whispered as the tactician kissed his neck. "Prowl, wait –" Another set of lips crushed over his. He felt expert hands travel down his front bumper, over his abdominal plates, going lower, in a dance Jazz was all too familiar with.

"No, just listen to me for a sec, Prowl." By now, Jazz would have been lost in passion, but this was different.

Willing his arms to work, Jazz grasped Prowl hands away from his hips, forcing the tactician to lock optics clouded by lust and something else, with his.

"Stop it." Jazz said as he felt the charge leave him. Prowl was about to kiss him again when Jazz released his hands placed them on the Praxian's bumper, blocking him.

"You can't," Jazz whispered, and his voice was lower than the sound of the falling rain, "You can't frag the pain away, Prowl."

Prowl's mind woke up from the lust induced haze at that, and glared at Jazz. With a grunt, he was off of him.

"Stop hiding, lover." There was no anger in Jazz's voice, only sadness.

"I am not hiding." Came the sharp reply.

Every single anniversary of the tragedy they indulged in passion, hoping the pleasure will chase away the pain. And it worked, still does. But it was not a cure and it never will be.

"Oh, I find that hard to believe." Jazz looked away, "This pain, no matter how hard we try, and by Primus do we try _hard_, we can't simply frag it away. It doesn't work like that."

Jazz's only response was the quiet swoosh of the automatic door. Again.

"Run little rabbit, run."

* * *

**TBC**


End file.
